


Aftermath of a Cake

by Glowbug



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Episode: s02e01 Helsinki, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1337020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glowbug/pseuds/Glowbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Douglas endeavors to sort out a mess. One that may be partly his fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath of a Cake

Douglas finds himself admiring Arthur’s accuracy as a spluttering “Aunty Ruth” endeavors to wipe Mainly Chocolate Thing Attempting To Be Cake from her face. The thrower of said alleged cake glares at her. In all the time Douglas has known Arthur, he has _never_ seen that look on his face. Perhaps it’s as well there’s nothing else throwable at hand.

Kieran gapes for a moment, then starts running around the cafe collecting napkins from the tables. Surprisingly (but wisely), he doesn’t say a word to any of the MJN crew. Martin, with a wary glance in the teenager’s direction, starts to pick himself up off the floor. Douglas considers cracking a joke, but instead stands up and offers him a hand.

Carolyn draws herself up several inches and stalks out.

Arthur stares after his mother for a moment, then dashes out as well. Douglas exchanges a look with Martin; yes, they’d better follow too. Ruth and Kieran, now engrossed in ruining napkins with Chocolate Thing, don’t seem to notice them leaving.

They have to jog to catch up to Carolyn. She spares them only the briefest glance before giving orders. Her voice retains traces of that northern accent she got when arguing with Ruth. It’s also got an odd, choked sound to it that Douglas can’t place. “Douglas, walk-round. Martin, flight plan. Arthur… no more surprises.”

“Sorry, Mum.” Arthur sounds deflated.

Martin gestures towards the cafe. “But don’t we have to go back and get—”

_“NO.”_

Gale force ten? Twelve? Douglas settles on eleven. Martin gulps audibly. Carolyn storms off toward the plane without another word. Arthur (recognizing his mother at hurricane force) comes to a jerky halt, and Douglas and Martin follow suit.

“It wasn’t a very good birthday trip, was it?” Arthur says sadly.

Martin’s arm twitches, and after a moment he puts a hand on the steward’s shoulder. “Today’s not been good for any of us, Arthur. Except possibly the orchid lovers of Helsinki.”

Douglas grimaces. “Martin, if I needed reminding, I would tell you.” There’s no denying it’s been a profitable day for _him_ , but…

Arthur’s brow furrows. “But Douglas, if you were going to tell Skip that you needed reminding, wouldn’t you need reminding that you needed reminding? And then you’d have to get someone to remind you that you needed reminding of needing reminding and… wait…”

“Never mind, Arthur,” Douglas says. He’s starting to get an idea. “Why don’t you go along with Martin to file the flight plan?” Martin shoots him a quizzical look. “After which,” Douglas continues, “the two of you might scour the airport shop for birthday candles.”

“Birthday candles?” asks Martin.

“Yes, for Carolyn’s birthday cake.”

“But my cake wasn’t very cake-y,” Arthur says, “and now I don’t have it because I threw it at Aunty Ruth because she was making Mum sound all wobbly like she does when she’s going to cry.” Martin’s eyes widen, and Douglas inhales sharply. _That’s_ what was off about Carolyn’s tone. Arthur’s face darkens again for a moment. _“Nobody_ gets to make Mum cry.”

Martin claps Arthur on the back. Douglas smiles. “And heaven help those foolish enough to attempt it.”

“So what are we going to do with birthday candles and no cake?” Martin asks.

“Well,” Douglas replies, “as it happens, I have just come into possession of a cake even less expected, though far more palatable, than Arthur’s… extraordinary creation.”

“What’s that?” Arthur asks.

“Fishcake!”

Arthur’s eyes light up, and Douglas knows he’s successfully pulled another trick out of his hat.

* * *

 

Martin and Arthur head off to file flight plans and hunt for candles. Douglas returns to the plane. He’s fairly certain Carolyn is on board, so he does an exceptionally thorough walk-round (for him) before he enters the flight deck. Inside, he puts his ear to the door. Sure enough, Carolyn’s in the galley, and Arthur’s observations are proving alarmingly correct. Rather than barge in, Douglas starts the pre-flight checklists, singing loudly to himself as he goes. Only after every item is checked off (Martin would be proud) does he open the flight deck door to find a tired, red-eyed CEO sitting in the galley, head in her hands. “Carolyn, ready for takeoff, as soon as Martin and Arthur get back.”

“Good,” Carolyn says, every letter carefully sounded.

Douglas pulls down a jump seat and sits across from her. He knows better than to comment on her state. After some hesitation he says, “Apologies, Carolyn. I may have had _one_ too many ulterior motives today.”

She looks up, and almost smiles. “Was your beloved customs officer happy to see you?” Douglas chokes slightly and finds himself without a retort. Carolyn’s voice takes on a teasing lilt. “Perhaps I should take GERTI’s next repair bill out of your paycheck.”

Douglas emits a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Understood.” Teasing or no, Carolyn is _far_ less lenient about MJN’s budget than about, say, honoring the wall chart. Perhaps it’s time to cash in one of his bartering chains.

“Where are those two fools, anyway?”

By now, likely discussing what to do about the airport shop’s lack of candles. “Impromptu birthday planning. Not,” he hastens to add upon seeing her horrified expression, “involving any estranged relatives or bowls of unidentifiable liquid masquerading as cake. Scout’s honor. Though I do feel the mystery liquid went to an admirable purpose.”

A small smile tugs at Carolyn’s mouth. “Oh, Ruth’s _face!”_

“Indeed, Arthur demonstrated impeccable aim with his bowl of chocolate sludge.”

Douglas joins in when Carolyn starts to laugh.

 

 


End file.
